Water Witch (17 page)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“I hate the stripes of this shirt sometimes.” It was one of the four original shirts, from before the storm. It reminded me of what I’d lost.

“If you don’t like it, wear another.”

“I don’t have another one.” I threw down the shirt and turned to scowl out the window. It wasn’t Salil’s fault I had no clothes.

He sighed. “You could wear one of mine. Or we could get you more clothes, love.” His words were soft and gentle, and familiar. He’d said this before. But besides buying a new wool coat and a few pairs of shoes, I had done nothing about my clothing situation.

I’d given the past two weeks of massages wearing the striped shirt with my sleeves rolled up, because the only t-shirt I had that was appropriate now had a stain on the front. And I’d been washing clothes three times each week to keep my tiny wardrobe clean. It was time to buy more.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

I saw the sweater from fifteen feet away, on the clearance rack near the back of the store. It was exactly like a sweater I’d owned before. I checked the size hastily. “Medium.”
Perfect.
Even large might have fit me, but medium was the size my old one had been. I folded it over my arm possessively.

“What is that?” Salil looked curious, maybe hopeful I was feeling better. “Something you like?”

“I used to have this same sweater.” I held it closer to me, suddenly worried he might try to talk me out of buying it. “It’s mine.”

“All right, love. Of course.” He put his arm around me like I was crazy and steered me toward the shirts I needed.

I picked out a few appropriate outfits for work, and then scoured the clearance rack again, hoping to find something else that was mine. Nothing was exact, but I found a pair of jeans that was just my size, and pretty close to a pair I’d loved before. Then another shirt, a plaid button-down, that was the same pattern I’d had but in a different color scheme.

I held all my new-old clothes tight, and avoided Salil’s eyes.

We got home and crawled into bed. Salil was itching to ask me about the shopping incident, I could feel it. I didn’t have his skill for thought reading, but he’d given enough signs that anyone would have known what was on his mind.

“Go ahead, tell me I’m crazy.”

“I do not think that.” He kissed my neck and wrapped his arm behind my back. My mom was at Dana’s, a good enough reason for us to be naked in bed together at two in the afternoon.

“Well, I know you think something. Just tell me.”

“I’m worried about you. I’m not sure if I should be, or if this is normal. I love you, and I’m worried.”

I sighed against his hair, longer now and loose, it brushed the top of his shoulders. “I’m fine. I know I got a little weird with the sweater today. Funny thing is, I never even liked that sweater all that much. I’m okay, I promise.”

“When we decorate your new home, will you buy the things we need? Or will you be as difficult as you have been with clothing?”

“Everything is gone, Sal—” I turned my head away and sobbed into the pillow, embarrassed that I’d lost control so soon after insisting I was fine. But he said nothing, not even a soothing platitude, just held me and kissed me and laid his head near mine. When I could speak again, I tried to explain. “All my things, it’s like…more than just stuff, you know? Some stuff was so old, it had been my grandfather’s or even older. Some were gifts people gave me, and some things I bought. But all of it was mine, and I loved it.”

I sounded like an idiot, and I wasn’t sure he knew what I was saying. I tried again. “I was taught that those things we pour love into, even the simple things like a coffee mug or a sweater, absorb part of our magic. And all of those things around you, in your house, form a barrier of protection. Like a giant circle of magic, an enchanted nest. And now, it’s all gone.”

He nodded and kissed my neck as if he understood, and maybe he did, living in this house his whole life, with the treasures of his ancestors around him.

I blew out a breath. “I just…sometimes, the thought of having to build all that again is overwhelming.”

Salil’s eyes shone, but he bit his lip. He searched my face and then stood, pulling my hand so I’d join him. “Come on, I have something to show you.”

“What is this? Salil, what did you do?” But as I looked around the dusty attic, I knew exactly what he’d done. He’d broken his neutrality, had acted on a vision. He’d interfered with fate. For me. Boxes of memories from my own attic filled the space: piles of my mom’s books, a folded afghan Noni had made, a plastic bin labeled “Vinny photos.” All my family treasures.

He wore a small smile, and stared out the tiny attic window with a faraway look in his eyes. “I loved you from the first day I saw you. I was fourteen, so you must have been twelve. I had seen you in visions my whole life, but never in the flesh. One day, you walked through the forest, right past my living room window. You couldn’t see me, of course, and the spells that keep my family home shielded ensured you wouldn’t walk too close…but you were close enough. You knelt down in my yard, near a patch of thyme, and ran your palm over it, and you smiled. I watched you pinch the tip from a tiny stem, crush it in your fingers and smell it. And I knew you were mine. I ached for you that day.”

“I didn’t—”

“I know. I made sure you never saw me. I wanted to follow you, to see where you lived and who you talked to, but I forced myself to stay away, to see you only in visions. I studied the patterns of possible events, and followed the paths I’d been shown, never overstepping my bounds no matter how tempting. When you came home from school crying, shame and pain pouring from you, I had to travel to visit my family in Europe to prevent myself from interfering with your life. When you went to college and ignored your skills in favor of beer and casual sex, I rented a boat and sailed down the coast alone. I maintained my distance for thirteen years. Even when I knew all it would have taken was a small word, a tiny action, to ease your pain. I didn’t tell you about the storm. I didn’t warn you about your home. But I could do this at least.”

“Will there be consequences?” I knew how the roots of my fate-tree shifted with every action I took, but I never had enough information to do any real damage. Salil, with his insight, could wreak havoc on his patterns. Which, I was beginning to accept, were also my patterns. I watched him carefully.

He flicked his gaze to me and shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“What does that mean?”

He sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “It means I don’t really know. This is a small thing. Nothing will change much, probably. I saw nothing prohibiting it, but I can not foresee every possible combination of events.” He turned to me and forced a smile. “As far as I know, nothing bad will happen because of this.”

“Okay.” I would have liked more confidence from him, but seeing my stuff here made me pretty damn happy. I couldn’t stop my smile. “Thank you. Though I don’t know whether to be impressed or insulted.”

“What do you mean?” He dropped his hands to his sides and waited for me to explain, a nervous frown on his face.

“Well, you must have made a lot of trips into my house, and not only that, you carried out these huge fucking boxes! No one saw you, or sensed you? None of us noticed all this stuff was missing? And when the hell did you manage to take this?” I picked up the photo album he and my mom had been looking at the day before the storm.

“I have some skills. Do not doubt me.” The humor was back in his voice and he put one hand on his hip in a sassy little move that I loved.

I laughed and crossed the floor to wrap him in my arms. “Your skills astound me, Fae. Thank you.”

“For you, my witch, anything.”

I held him and considered letting the moment pass, but my eyes rested on the piles of boxes behind him. “You really think of me as ‘your’ witch? You truly believe we’re mates?”

“With all of my skill and all of my heart, I know it.”

“Shit.” I laid my forehead on his shoulder.

“Is it so terrible to imagine?”

“No. It’s pretty great, actually. I just never thought… I guess I still can’t believe in mates.”

He pushed me back so he could look into my eyes. “And when you look at me, what do you think? What is the first word that comes to your mind when you see my face, or hear my name?”

“Mine,” I admitted, and watched his face light up. “I think you’re mine.”

“I am. And you are mine, Vincenzo. Do not fight it any more.”

“I won’t.”

His whole body relaxed at my words, and he pulled me back to him, taking my mouth in a deep kiss. Still there was the thrill at our touch, a little tumble in my stomach when his tongue swept against mine. I wasn’t sure about the mates thing, wasn’t ready to give in completely, but I’d only ever felt this electric connection with Salil.
Fucking hell, he is mine.
Forever or just for now, it didn’t matter.

And Goddess could he kiss. My blood sang to me, stronger than usual, filling me with bliss. That definitely didn’t happen with any other boyfriend.
We’re mates
. Even if I’d never admit it out loud, my body knew. He slipped his fingers under the waistband of my lounge pants and crept them down, squeezing my ass. I moaned and pressed myself to him.
Yes
. “Let’s go back to bed.”

He smiled against my mouth and then gave me one last kiss before turning to go back down the tiny attic stairs.

In bed, naked again, he kissed down my neck and over my chest, and I lost myself in the thrill of our connection. He’d been growing in confidence, learning what I liked, exploring his own desires. I could have taken control if I wanted it, but I enjoyed letting him lead us. His gentle dominance turned me on like nothing else. And the best way to encourage him to take control was to ask him outright. “Please, Salil.”

He raised his head and smiled at me. “Hungry, witch?”

“Mmm.” I arched against him, and he laughed. He knew what I wanted.

“Are you ready for me?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?” A little teasing in that question, his eyebrow raised and his lips quirking up.

“No.” I squirmed beneath him, and he leaned down to kiss me again.

“I suppose I’ll have to make sure.” His words were light, this was a game we’d played often. He scooted down and took me into his mouth, swallowing around the head of my cock, but not giving me the watery glamour he knew I craved. I wriggled against him.

A finger breached my hole, rough but well lubricated. He’d prepared himself for this. I sighed.
Fuck, he’s perfect
. Finally, the pressure increased and his mouth felt like a whirlpool jet around my dick.
Yes.

He’d keep going until I came, unless I stopped him. His goal always seemed to be my pleasure. He loved to suck an orgasm from me, then either let me suck him, or fuck me slowly until he came inside of me. Either option was good. Especially when he was holding me down, giving me little orders about what to say, how to move. 

Those long fingers teased me, his mouth locked around my shaft, his arm around my thigh. I moaned and stretched my hands above my head. I was close to losing it, and I wanted to make this last. I blew out a breath.
Almost.
Then he pulled off, nibbling the insides of my thighs.

He wants me to beg him.
He loved that.

I gave in. “Salil… Sal, please.”

He sucked the skin of my inner thigh. “Please what?” He was smiling.
Bastard
. He knew I could barely talk when I was this close.

“Fuck, Fae, suck me! Ugh!” I tilted my hips so my cock rested on the side of his face.

He laughed at me, twisting his fingers inside me and licking up my shaft. “I should never have shown you my glamour. You are addicted, I think.” His mouth was tortuously close, and his devilish smile told me he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Salil!” I shouted, pressing myself up against his lips.

“Naughty witch. Now I think I will make you work for your reward.” He pulled his fingers from me, and I actually whimpered at the loss.
What had he done to me? I used to be able to keep my cool in bed.
He twisted his body, lying down on his stomach.

“What are you doing?”

He turned his head and smirked at me. “Fuck me, witch. And I want to hear you tell me I’m yours again.” He tilted his hips back, presenting his ass to me.

This was taking our little dominance game too far, ordering me around like this. But his ass did look tempting. “You’re not used to it. I’ll hurt you.”

“You flatter yourself. Fuck me.”

I groaned and laid on top of his back, leaned down and bit his ear. “You sure you want to do this? I won’t last long.”

He arched against me, rocking his ass along my cock.
I guess that’s a yes
. I gave him a brief, spit-soaked finger as preparation. When he groaned in annoyance, I pressed myself against his hole.